Dudley goes to Hogwarts
by Smee15
Summary: Is Dudley more than just a muggle?
1. Chapter 1

It was a bright, sunny summers morning, and there was nothing to suggest that it was going to be anything but a normal day at number four Privet Drive. Sunlight bathed the sitting room in a comforting warmth, and flowers of many colours bloomed in the immaculately mown lawn outside. Birds whistled cheerfully in the blossoming trees, which rustled in the warm breeze, as though whispering unheard secrets to the world outside.

Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Harry were sitting at the table eating their breakfast – Dudley was lounging on the sofa in front of the television, having finished his apple slices and glass of juice in a matter of seconds. Petunia and Vernon were leisurely finishing their slices, and Harry, who was being treated unmistakeably better than any of the previous summers (this was almost certainly because his friends had threatened the Dursleys when they met at the station), was finishing his second bowl of coco pops, taking great pleasure in slurping up the rest of the milk as loudly as possible, in attempt to irritate Dudley. Although Dudley was determinedly staring at the wrestling show on the television, Harry could see the corner of his mouth twitching. Harry smirked.

"I think I'll have some more sugar. It tastes brilliant with the milk, " he said loudly, reaching for the sugar spoon, and slowly sprinkling an extra-large spoonful into his almost empty bowl. He glanced over to his cousin, and saw that Dudley's gaze was resting on the box of cereal, a longing expression in his pig-like eyes. Harry's smile widened. He knew that Vernon and Petunia were struggling to suppress their outrage, and that knowledge made what he was doing even more enjoyable.

"Actually," he said, even more loudly, "I don't think I want this after all. Would you like it Dudley?" He clapped his hand to his forehead, in mock- realisation. "Oh, I'm sorry! You're not allowed are you Dudders? You don't want those muscles turning to flab, do you, Big-D?"

Dudley's mouth twitched again, and glancing over to his uncle, Harry saw that Vernon's face had gone a brilliant shade of magenta. Petunia was staring at her son, biting her lip anxiously.

"Still, maybe putting on a bit more weight might help you," Harry continued. "Instead of pounding your enemies into pulp, you could just jump on top of them. Mind you, I expect you could do that anyway…"

Dudley cracked. "Shut up! You…you…freak!" he yelled, jumping to his feet, his face bright red, his sausage-like fingers clenched. Harry simply smiled.

"Is that the best you can come up with? You're losing your touch, Diddykins."

Dudley took a lumbering step towards him, his fat fist raised. Uncle Vernon quickly got up from the table and stepped between them, blocking Dudley's large figure from Harry's sight.

"That's enough, boy," he said, glaring menacingly at Harry, who simply smiled innocently and shrugged.

"And…and you too, son," he said in a pained voice, turning to Dudley, who mumbled something about being provoked.

"Remember, Duddy, we don't want Harry getting…hurt, in any way." Petunia called to her son. Harry turned to his aunt.

"Don't worry," he said, in mock sincerity, "Dudders is just grouchy 'cause he's lost his favourite food."

On the spur of the moment, knowing that he may be going slightly too far, he grabbed the sugar bowl from the table, darted around Vernon's large figure, and wafted the bowl in Dudley's face. "Mmmmm, sugar."

Two things happened at once. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's wrist tightly, and jerked his hand - which was still clutching the bowl - away from Dudley's face, causing a torrent of sugar to spill over the carpet. At the same time, Dudley let out a huge roar, and the framed photo of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hanging on the wall next to Harry suddenly swooped off it's hanger. Harry ducked just in time as it flew swiftly through the space where his head had been, and smashed into the opposite wall, causing the glass to shatter and cover the floor below.

The crash was ensued by a horrified silence. Harry quickly looked towards aunt Petunia, who was staring, pale faced and aghast, at the picture frame on the floor. He turned to Dudley, and saw that his cousin was also staring at the frame, a confused and somewhat disbelieving expression on his face.

Vernon was the first to speak. "See what you've done now, Potter?" He hissed, turning to Harry, his eyes bulging from their sockets and an ugly purple vein protruding from his forehead.

"But… but it wasn't me…" said Harry slowly.

"Of course it was!" Vernon spat. " Don't lie to me, boy! Who else could it have been…Dudley?"

Harry stared at his cousin once again, and frowned. Surely it couldn't have been… but who else? He certainly hadn't done the magic himself, he was sure of that, so unless Dobby – or some other magical creature – had broken into the Dursleys' home and was keeping itself hidden somewhere, he couldn't think of any other explanation…

"Well?" Vernon snapped, "I asked you a question!"

"It wasn't me!" Harry repeated, anger boiling inside him. "I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me!"

Vernon opened his mouth to speak again, but was immediately distracted; a rather large tawny owl had swooped through the window - which Petunia had opened due to the summer heat. Vernon watched, open-mouthed, as it flew over to the table, dropped a letter next to the fruit bowl, and soared back outside.


	2. Chapter 2

Everyone stared at the letter. Harry's heart sank. Undoubtedly, he was about to be expelled; the fact that he hadn't done the magic hadn't mattered before, when a house elf had dropped a cake onto a guest's head.

He walked over to the table, and, with a trembling hand, took the letter. His eyes widened with surprise as he saw that it was not, as he had expected, addressed to him. Frowning, he handed it over to his aunt: "It's for you."

"What?" Uncle Vernon exclaimed, but both Petunia and Harry ignored him, their eyes on the unopened letter.

Aunt Petunia looked up at Harry, her eyes wide, and her face pale. She reached out – her palm, Harry noticed, was clammy – and took the letter with a trembling hand.

"But why is it addressed to you?" Vernon demanded. "It was the boy who did the magic!"

Harry turned to him, glaring. "Just shut up a minute, will you?"

Vernon opened his mouth to argue, then seemingly thought better of it, and contented himself with muttering under his breath: Harry caught words such as 'freaks' and 'outrageous.'

Aunt Petunia stared at the letter for a few more seconds, then suddenly got up. She walked over to the corner of the room, and dropped the letter into the bin.

"You can't do that!" Harry exclaimed.

"Oh, yes she can, boy!" Vernon barked. "And she will, if that's what she wants!"

"But, Aunt Petunia," Harry pleaded, "It could be something important! Besides, don't you remember what happened last time you ignored a letter? They'll only keep on sending more."

"Let them!" Vernon exclaimed, clearly enjoying having power over Harry for the first time that summer. Petunia, however, had stopped in mid-step, obviously remembering the events of the summer before Harry's first year at Hogwarts.

"You have to open it, now," Harry urged her. Petunia stood, thinking, for a few seconds more, then sighed resignedly and picked the letter back out of the bin.

Dudley, who had remained silent since the picture frame had flown across the room, suddenly found his voice again. "I…I think it was me," he said, softly.

"Shush a minute, Dud," Vernon said, his eyes on the letter, still unopened, in Petunia's hands.

"But dad, I think I made the picture fly!"

"Dudley, I said be quiet! And don't be silly, of course it wasn't you!"

"But dad…"

"I said be quiet!" Vernon snapped. Dudley scowled, but remained silent.

Petunia stared at the letter, then suddenly ripped open the envelope, and unfolded the letter inside. As she read, her face grew paler, and her eyes widened. "No…" she whispered, a horrified expression on her face.

"What? What is it?" Vernon barked, striding across the room. Harry, however, got there first, and snatched the letter from Petunias trembling fingers. He quickly unfolded it, and read the following:

_Petunia,_

_As I am sure you are aware, sixteen years ago precisely, you and I made a deal. The deal, in case your memory does not serve you well, was as follows:_

"_In exchange for your taking care of Harry Potter, I will not invite Dudley to join Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the school of which I am headmaster." _

_In order for this deal to take place, you agreed to ensure that Dudley did not find out about his magical abilities. If he did, however, discover that he is a wizard, I would have no choice but to invite him to join our school. I am sure you are aware that today, Dudley did indeed perform a certain type of magic. I have no choice, therefore, but to send him an invitation to join Hogwarts. Please be aware that Dudley does have the right to decline our offer, but if he wishes to attend, you cannot change his decision._

_If Dudley does not choose to attend, you must continue to make sure that he does not perform magic. I am afraid that if he performs magic on three more occasions, he will have no choice but to attend the school. _

_As, in normal situations, Hogwarts students do not have a choice regarding whether or not they attend, I trust that you will still look after Harry Potter, as I am doing my utmost to stick to my side of the deal._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Harry looked up, unable to believe what he had just read. "Is this…is this true?" he asked his aunt disbelievingly, his voice sounding rather distant and croaky. "Is Dudley really a wizard?"

Dudley gasped, and Vernon exclaimed "What?"

But Petunia merely nodded, her eyes on the floor.

Vernon's eyes bulged, a look of utter disbelief on his purple face. "Give me that," he said, pulling the letter from Harry's grasp.

"I'm a…a…thingy?" Dudley exclaimed, looking from his mother, to the broken frame, and back to Petunia again.

"Yep, Dudders, you're a freak, just like me," Harry said numbly, barely believing it himself.

As Vernon read the letter for the fifth time, Harry thought about what it would be like if Dudley went to Hogwarts. In Harry's opinion, one of the best things about his school was that it was miles away from the Dursleys. If Dudley went to Hogwarts…

Harry shuddered. He knew, of course, what house Dudley would end up in, and who Dudley would make friends with. Dudley was the exact thing Hogwarts didn't need, in times so troubled as these.

But there was still a chance! Dudley might not choose to go, and his parents would certainly do their best to prevent him from attending. Besides, Dudley always ridiculed Harry for being a wizard - for being a 'freak,' as he so often put it.

Dudley was reading the letter now, and Vernon and Petunia were arguing across the table. Harry searched Dudley's expression, and to his dismay, saw that his cousin was smiling, his beady eyes alight. Dudley looked up. "Mum, dad!" he said loudly. "Potty," he sniggered, turning towards Harry. He cleared his throat dramatically, and looked his father in the eyes. "I want to learn magic."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Firstly, thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed! I'll get round to reading some of your work too, I promise. Sorry it's taken quite a while to update... I completely forgot about this story until yesterday, actually.

Secondly, I started writing this fic before the sixth book had been released. Therefore, none of the events in the HBP have happened; Dumbledore is not dead (but Sirius is) certain ships haven't sailed, etc. And the Ministry is still denying Voldemort's return. Oh, and the twins are still in school... I know they left in the fifth book, but it just makes things easier (and more interesting) if they're still at Hogwarts.

Thirdly, I'm sorry the story is moving quite slowly... yeah...

_Harry,_

_You must be joking... please, tell me you're joking. If you are, though, it isn't funny. Dudley – a wizard? He's got about as much magic in him as half a dead flobberworm._

_Besides, you said he hates magic – so even if what Dumbledore wrote was true (I dunno though Harry, maybe he's going senile in his old age?) why would Dudley want to go to Hogwarts?_

_Write back soon; I'm not the only one who wants to know what's happening - mum and dad are going mental. Mum's just told me to tell you to write back immediately. You'd better do it, Harry – I'm telling you, she's frantic. Fred just exploded something in the kitchen sink and she didn't even notice_.

_Good luck, mate,_

_Ron_

Harry sighed resignedly, any hopes he may have harboured of receiving helpful advice from the Weasleys well and truly dissipated. Hermione had also replied to the plea for help he had hurriedly scrawled the same evening Dudley had received his own letter, and though her note had contained what he had considered at the time to be useful suggestions, none of them had had any effect.

Over the past one and a half days, Harry had tormented Dudley with terrifying anecdotes of encounters with strange, gruesome, entirely fabricated creatures; dangerous escapades involving dark wizards and torturous spells; hook-nosed, sallow-faced teachers who handed out detentions at whim and strung students upside down by their ankles.

He had bombarded Dudley with these stories at every possible opportunity, and while on several occasions he had managed to turn his Aunt Petunia's face a sweaty, sickly pale-green (though she wasn't about to complain; she was, of course, as desperate as he was to dissuade her only son from attending Hogwarts), Dudley's decision still hadn't budged: he was determined, it seemed, to learn magic.

So there he was, lying on his bed, his fingers curled limply around the letter from Ron, Pigwidgeon pecking painfully at his other hand in an attempt to motivate him to reply. He pushed himself up wearily, quickly jotted down a quick note explaining the situation – trying to keep the desperation in his writing to a bare minimum – and, after giving the small owl a treat he had found at the bottom of Hedwig's cage, sent Pigwidgeon back out into the darkening sky, letter in tow.

He could hear Vernon's booming voice shouting something incomprehensible on the floor below, his muffled words interspersed with the sound of Petunia's wailing sobs. Dudley and his parents were undoubtedly having yet another argument – the hundredth, it seemed, since the letter had arrived. It was a strange feeling for Harry; usually it was he who was in the firing line of his aunt and uncle, and Dudley who sat smirking on the sidelines. Though admittedly, Harry wasn't doing much smirking of his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Standing inside the entrance of Diagon Alley, Harry felt a distinct sense of foreboding stir somewhere inside him. Usually his visits to the wizarding shops were bearable, if not thoroughly enjoyable; much better than traipsing around muggle shopping centres with the Dursleys, at least. However, Harry had a dismal feeling that this particular shopping trip was not going to follow the trend…

Despite the strenuous efforts Harry had put into dissuading his cousin from going to Hogwarts – everything short of getting down onto his knees and begging him - Dudley adamantly refused to change his mind. Petunia and Vernon had tried just as hard, of course, Petunia bursting into tears several times, and Vernon coming close to breaking a window, but nothing would waver Dudley's decision: he was going to learn magic, and that, it seemed, was the end of it.

Harry couldn't quite shake the suspicion that his cousin was only doing this to spite him – Dudley seemed to take a great amount of pleasure from Harry's desperate expression whenever they discussed the subject, which was very often. But, he supposed, there wasn't much he could do about it even if this were true. For a while he had attempted to put on an indifferent expression whenever Dudley mentioned Hogwarts, but it had soon become apparent that this was having no effect whatsoever, and he had dropped the pretence.

His and Dudley's school equipment lists had arrived a couple of days after the incident at the breakfast table, much to Dudley's delight, and the rest of the family's dismay. So now Harry found himself standing at the entrance to Diagon Alley, with Dudley in tow; Vernon and Petunia had bluntly refused to have anything to do with it, and had only gone as far as to drop them off in the centre of London before disappearing again. For once, Harry couldn't blame them.

The one silver lining to the situation was that he had Ron and Hermione with him for moral support. The four of them had met outside the entrance of Diagon Alley, along with Mr and Mrs Weasley, and Fred and George. It had been a huge relief to see them all again, and the uncomfortable knot in Harry's stomach – which had been getting steadily tighter over the past few days - seemed to have loosened slightly upon meeting them. However, he still wasn't looking forward to the experience.

"Well, this is it," Harry said, without looking at his cousin, gesturing half-heartedly around him. "Diagon Alley."

"Well done for stating the obvious, Potty," Dudley replied mockingly, and Mrs Weasley frowned at him, her lips pursing. However, Harry had sensed a definite note of apprehension in his cousin's voice. His small eyes were darting wildly, trying to take in everything around them all at once – and, Harry thought, for someone who had previously been thoroughly opposed to anything remotely magical, the sight must have been something of a culture shock.

Witches and wizards filled the streets, some bustling around hurriedly with large shopping bags, others strolling casually, occasionally stopping in front of one of the many shop windows to admire various magical items.

Harry saw one short man with a long dark beard and royal blue robes staggering along the pavement, a huge and seemingly empty birdcage in his arms. However, as Harry continued to watch, he saw a flash of something dark purple and scaly with glowing red eyes hanging by a long, thin tail from the swinging perch. He blinked, and the cage appeared vacant again. Harry glanced at his cousin, and saw that he had paled slightly; evidently Dudley had also seen the disappearing purple creature, or something of a similar nature.

"Right," said Mr Weasley. "Well, Molly and I have some shopping to do. I'd certainly like to pay that new Muggle Paraphernalia shop a visit – it just opened last month so it's only on its first legs, but they've apparently got some walker-talkers stocked, which I'd like to take a look at, and I'm almost positive I heard Kingsley Shacklebolt talking about microwaves the other day…"

Harry, glancing up at his cousin's chubby face, saw that despite obviously being quite overwhelmed by his surroundings, Dudley was still managing to give Mr Weasley an extremely withering look. Harry resisted a sudden yet familiar urge to punch his cousin hard in the face

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat loudly, interrupting her husband's enthusiastic tangent, which had now digressed even further, to the subject of ironing boards.

"Yes, well," Arthur said hurriedly. "I'm sure you four will be able to help – er - Dudley here with his list - " he glanced at Harry, who nodded slightly, though in reality he felt more than reluctant to be held responsible for his cousin. He looked at Ron and Hermione, and from the hesitant expressions on their faces he could tell they were thinking the same thing. Fred and George, he noticed with a certain amount of trepidation, both had huge grins on their faces.

Mr. Weasley continued, apparently oblivious to the twins' gleeful expressions. "I suggest we split up for the time being, and meet again at Florean Fortescue's at… say… three thirty. That gives us about two and a half hours to get all our errands done. Everyone agreed?"

They all did, so Harry, his friends and Dudley parted ways with Mr and Mrs Weasley, Harry keeping a firm grip on Dudley's wrist to prevent him from straying (he tried several times to pull away to look at various shop windows – tugging particularly hard after seeing one which displayed an array of colourful boxes containing different types of wizarding chocolate). Harry looked at the letter listing Dudley's books and equipment – first on the list were new robes. "Come on," he said to the group, "we need to go to Madam Malkins."

"So, Dud," said Fred, with a rather vindictive smile on his face, as they made their way towards their first destination. "How're you finding your earliest experience of the wizarding world? Living up to your expectations?"

Dudley shrugged in what he obviously hoped was an indifferent-verging-on-unimpressed manner. "It's okay, I guess," he said in a bored voice, but his wide eyes betrayed him; he was obviously finding the experience fascinating at the very least.

"Not quite exciting enough for you then, Dudders?" said George, his eyes twinkling. "Well, I'm sure by the end of our shopping trip your opinion will have changed..."

Harry couldn't be sure of it, but he had the distinct impression that the twins had something in store for Dudley that they weren't letting on. It made him extremely nervous. Ron was seemingly oblivious to the twins' subtle threats, but as Harry looked over to Hermione, they made eye contact, and she glanced pointedly at Fred and George, who were making would-be-amiable conversation with Dudley, talking animatedly and pointing at various shops and passers-by.

"That's Crazy-Arm Archie," Harry hear Fred say in a serious tone of voice, gesturing towards an aged wizard in billowing scarlet robes who Harry had never seen in his life. "Don't ever go near him – he has a withered hand that's completely out of his control, and strangles anyone who comes within arms reach."

"Yeah right," Dudley said scathingly, but Harry couldn't help noticing that his cousin kept well out of the way of passers-by from that point onwards.

After another minute or so of walking - during which Harry (having let go of Dudley, entrusting the twins with his supervision - which, he realised, was probably a rather foolish thing to do) chatted to Hermione and Ron, listening to their recounts of the summer and talking to them about his own experiences (most predominantly about the arrival of Dudley's letter) - they arrived at Madam Malkins, and stepped inside.

Immediately, Harry's heart sank. Standing by the two large mirrors at the other side of the shop, wearing expensive-looking emerald green dress robes and admiring himself at various angles – turning first this way, and then that - was Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, not him" Ron groaned, echoing Harry's thoughts.

It wasn't a case of having to put up with snide remarks – he was used to them by now, and any jibes or jeers from Slytherins tended to bounce straight off his skin. No, what bothered him was the idea of Draco Malfoy and Dudley being in the same room as each other. Of course, if Dudley went to Hogwarts it would be inevitable – he would undoubtedly be put in Slytherin – but Harry still wanted to delay their meeting for as long as possible.

"They're too frilly" Malfoy was saying to a nervous-looking assistant, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "I like the colour, though... brings out my eyes, doesn't it?"

"Yes, yes," agreed the assistant hurriedly, "yes, they suit you, Master Malfoy. As you said, they bring out your eyes, certainly, yes."

Despite the assistant's repeated affirmations, Harry thought the robes looked hideous on Malfoy; the bright green gave his pale skin a sickly tint, making him look rather like a blonde-haired snake.

He started to turn around, intending to head out of the shop and return later... but at that moment, Draco looked round and saw them. "Potter" he said, his mouth contorting into a malicious smile. "How pleasant to see you."


	5. Chapter 5

Just something short, to let anyone who has put this in their favourites know that I'm going to continue with it, despite how much time has passed since my last update! I still remember the plot I had planned, hooray. I hope people are still enthusiastic about reading it :)

**

It had been fated since the very moment the large tawny owl had swooped through the downstairs window of number 4 Privet Drive, Harry thought glumly, sitting between Ron and Hermione on a long wooden bench outside Madam Malkins, his head in his hands. How had he ever held even a glimmer of hope that Draco and Dudley would never become friends? Malfoy already had two goonish cronies to order around as he pleased- he wouldn't miss the opportunity to recruit a third; and Dudley, for his part, was evidently drawn towards the air of spiteful superiority that Malfoy seemed to effortlessly exude. Any labours to prevent this from happening would, at best, have simply prolonged the inevitable.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had made a hasty exit as the scene in front of them became increasingly less bearable to witness: it was as though Dudley had fallen in love at first sight, and the way he instantly hung onto Malfoy's every word was almost sickening. Fred and George, for reasons unbeknownst to the trio, had chosen to stay inside the shop and watch the unpalatable scene unfold.

"I bet they're busy snogging each other in one of the fitting rooms right now," Ron muttered darkly, breaking the silence that hung between the three of them as they watched bustling shoppers pass them by. "Old Duds seemed pretty into him, I wouldn't be surprised... and that slimy git Malfoy'd to anything to have another one up on you, Harry."

"Don't be vulgar, Ron," said Hermione absently. "Besides," she added, a slightly sharper note to her voice now, "Dudley's muggle-born. Draco won't want to associate with him once he lets that one slip – I'm sure he's assuming Dudley's pure-blood because he's related to you, Harry."

Harry considered this for a moment. Would Dudley's decidedly non-magical heritage – shameful in the eyes of pure-blood enthusiasts such as the Malfoy family – deter Draco from hanging onto his new-found friend?

"I don't know, Hermione," he said eventually. "I think it's more likely that once Dudley's sorted into Slytherin, Malfoy'll spend as much time as he can filling his head with this pure-blood superiority rubbish, and Dudley'll end up just disowning his parents and lying through his teeth about his ancestry to anyone who asks. It's all just keeping up appearances, isn't it?"

"Hmm," Hermione replied pensively. "Who's to say he'll be sorted into Slytherin anyway? You never know..."

"Are you joking, Hermione?" Ron exclaimed.

"Well, Ron, people can surprise you sometimes-"

"I don't think Dudley's capable of surprising anyone," Harry interjected. "Besides, he's way too lazy to be sorted into Hufflepuff, and he's thick as two short planks so Ravenclaw's out of the question... I suppose his stupidity makes him fairly brave, though..."

"Don't say that!" Ron groaned emphatically. "Imagine if he was sorted into Gryffindor, and we had to share a dorm with him – I think I'd just drop out, get a job on the Knight Bus or something..."

At that moment, Dudley and Draco burst through the shop doors, Draco forcing some of the most false-sounding laughter Harry had ever heard, and Dudley grinning back, a simpering expression on his pudgy face. Each had a large bag slung over the crook of one arm; Dudley's was the same size as Malfoy's, and clearly contained far more items of clothing than he had been advised to buy. Fred and George followed close behind, carrying notably smaller bags, and both wearing identical expressions of poorly-suppressed rage and looking very much as though they would like to perform some highly illegal curses on the pair in front.

"Oh, there they are," Malfoy drawled, his lip curling as he gestured towards Harry, Ron and Hermione. The three of them looked stonily back at him, and Dudley grunted, his face falling - clearly he felt less than enthusiastic about parting from his new friend.

The two of them turned to face each other, and as Malfoy extended his hand for Dudley to shake, Harry was unavoidably reminded of his first journey on the Hogwarts Express, when the very same hand had instead been offered to him, and he had refused to take it. Dudley, predictably, seized it instantly; and though he could have been imagining it, Harry thought he saw Draco's head turn infinitesimally towards him in this reminiscent moment, the meanest hint of a smug gleam in his narrow eyes.

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye for now," Harry heard Malfoy say. "But don't forget to find my carriage when you catch the Hogwarts Express in September – I think you'll find the company of my friends rather more to your taste."

Dudley nodded eagerly. "Yeah, I'll remember, definitely! See you then."


End file.
